


where did that other dog come from

by yasgorl



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 14:59:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13572996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yasgorl/pseuds/yasgorl
Summary: “That cat is wearing my bowtie,” Bucky says, as soon as they enter the room.





	where did that other dog come from

**Author's Note:**

> written for this adorable [artsicle ](http://maximoff.tumblr.com/post/170478830228/i-think-you-should-draw-bucky-barnes-with-a-cat)

It’s gonna be a long day.

“That cat is wearing my bowtie,” Bucky says, as soon as they enter the room. He stops in his tracks, despite the line of people waiting to enter behind him; caterers with food-loaded dollies and florists carrying big baskets of fresh flowers to be arranged and distributed and workmen hauling bolts of fabric. It was the morning of Tony and Pepper’s dress rehearsal and they’d already changed locations twice before 11AM. Tony had ten back-ups to his back-up venue so that wasn’t much of a problem and between him and Pepper there had already been two teary outbursts - Tony both times - and one food cancellation because Tony  _just had a feeling about the salmon, I don’t like how that salmon’s looking at me, Pepper._  

Steve heaves a weary sigh and strides towards the far wall where he spots a heavy, hanging mirror. He fits his new comm in his ear and turns his head, checking to see how obvious it is with the rest of his formal attire. He was ready for anything, pretty damn sure Tony probably had a rehearsal attack staged as well, just so he could make triple sure the team could save his dearly beloved and all five hundred of their guests amidst - a fake asteroid or a swarm of mutant spiders with lasers for eyes for all Steve could guess.

“Steve.  _Steve._  This cat is wearing the same fucking bowtie,” Bucky says, louder, like Steve hadn’t heard the first time. The cat in question is at Bucky’s feet, sniffing at one shiny boot, long, fluffy tail flicking lazily in the air. Bucky’s got his arm extended rigidly down, pointing like he’s fingering a suspect in a line-up.  _Yes officer, that’s him, that’s the cat that stole my bowtie._

“We’re all wearing your bowtie, Buck,” Steve calls back. “You’re a groomsmen, remember?”

Bucky huffs out a derisive snort. He’d been pretty adamant about  _you’re telling me there’s no such thing as a bridesmen_  because he and Tony were still on rocky terms and Bucky sort of had a giant, embarrassing friend-crush on Pepper. Not the kind where Steve felt there was even the mildest chance of actual interest but the sort where they caught lunch together sometimes and went shopping and traded podcast recommendations. Pepper needed a good listener and Bucky had always had a healthy appreciation for an independent, strong-willed woman, being raised by one himself and an older brother to three more. 

Out of the corner of his eye Steve watches Bucky haul the cat up with surprising gentleness before him, squinting at its little matching yellow bowtie. He could also swear Bucky mutters something like  _who do you think you are,_  but he’s interrupted by a red-faced EA with a comm attached to his lapel. Steve hears Tony’s voice, tinny and clearly panicked from the speaker, followed by JARVIS’ smooth, mollified tone. When he’s done putting out the fire, Steve turns back to Bucky, who’s leaning against a balaster and watching the cat as it delicately winds its way around the room.

 Everyone who notices, despite their hurry, pauses to reach down and pet at its luxurious fur, or coo at it from above, arms laden with trays or stacks of chairs or piles of fabric.

“Unbelievable,” Bucky mutters under his breath, watching as a pair of caterers surreptitiously drop appetizers at the cat’s feet. No one seems to hear Bucky but Steve.

“Hey! He’s got rabies. He is  _rabid_ ,” Bucky says, startling the cat’s latest admirers. “He will fuck you up. He did this.” And Bucky holds up his metal arm and nods with all the subtlety of a toddler trying to pass a blatant lie.

The wedding had been all Bucky could talk about for the past month, and now the day was finally drawing near and Steve had practically had to lug Bucky into the venue, then ushered him around as he’d gravitated towards skulking in corners and now, interrogating a cat.

“Bucky,” Steve says. He tries to convey patience and understanding and steel all at once. He doesn’t know what his face is saying but it makes Bucky scowl and stoop down to let the cat slink from his hands. Then he turns his back in blatant reproach and walks towards a mirror hung on the opposite wall, its frame an intricate gilded design. 

He’d woken Steve up from near sleep just the night before. Steve is a forgiving guy but it was that perfect moment where everything had gone quite in his head and his senses had dwindled down and the safe fold of nothingness had begun to wrap around him and–

“Steve,” Bucky had hissed. 

Then he’d fidgeted around an abnormal amount until Steve had grunted and squinted his eyes open.

“What if there’s some new age ceremony they haven’t warned me about?”

“What? Who?” Steve had asked, turning with a groan onto his back. Images of fireside rituals sprung to mind in a bleary daze. What. No. 

“The wedding.”

“Why would they–what?”

Bucky had then groaned and jostled Steve some more.

“There isn’t going to be any weirdass ceremony, now  _relax_ ,” Steve had snapped. Then he’d felt bad so he’d patted around until he could grab at Bucky and pull him closer. Bucky had sniffed, audibly, curling onto himself so Steve had to scoot forward and stubbornly plaster himself to Bucky’s back.

“It’s human nature. We’re fucking saps for tradition,” Steve had said, which seemed to mollify Bucky at the time.

And it was true. Looking around, there wasn’t much difference from this and the types of affairs Steve had been wrangled into his Sunday best for all those years before. There were phones everywhere, yes, and people hunched over them in ways that made Steve feel all the decades of his life deep, deep in his bones.  _Why couldn’t anyone pay attention to the people right here in person?_  

Steve is distracted for all of a second and that’s what it takes for Bucky to sneak away, the space beside Steve empty when he turns back. The cat is nowhere to be seen.

“Goddamit,” Steve says.  

*

Steve searches for a heartstopping three minutes before he finds Bucky in an alcove off of the entrance. He’s sitting on a low bench, staring at the foot traffic bringing in last minute supplies. There’s a round fluff of fur curled besides Bucky on the thin cushioning, its tail flicking idly against Bucky’s thigh. He doesn’t seem to notice.

Steve scoops the cat up in his arms and eases himself down next to Bucky. They watch as an ice sculpture tableau of several Peppers is wheeled carefully by. 

“I never got to walk Becca down the aisle,” Bucky says. His gaze is distant, flat in a way that closes Steve’s throat up and makes him concentrate very hard on not squeezing the cat too tight. He breathes in and out and doesn’t move in his seat, feeling like he might spook Bucky into fleeing and never attending any wedding ever again; closing himself off from Steve like a vault.

“I know,” Steve says finally. He opens his mouth again and then shuts it. There was nothing else to be said. No way he could make this better. But there was no one else in the godfarsaken galaxy who came close to getting it but him, maybe not all of it, but just some of it and maybe that was enough.

Steve violently hopes he doesn’t have to put any of that into words. Instead, he pulls the cat up to his chest and gives its chin a little rub.

“Wanna hold the cat?” he asks, still eyeing the bustle in front of them like Bucky wasn’t even there.

“Okay,” Bucky replies after a pause, voice thick in a way that Steve will never, ever mention.

He stands and hands Bucky the cat, Bucky being weirdly careful with her like she’s a Faberge egg slathered in Crisco. 

Then Steve turns and walks into the crowd.

*

It’s a tense few days until the big day, Bucky distant and quiet in a way that makes Steve feel like he’s waiting for his death warrant. 

The ceremony itself is intimate and perfect and doesn’t contain indoor fireworks or obsolete suits flying around. Tony turns about thirty different shades as he waits for Pepper at the end of the aisle. At one point he looks deathly ill until Bucky takes it upon himself to give him a trio of resounding thumps on the back. Steve fears for Tony’s mortal spine but it seems to resolve him enough until the end of the ceremony, Steve stealthily searching Bucky’s face throughout for any sign of–anything–but the man is a steel mask. 

It isn’t until much later that Bucky finds Steve, appearing out of nowhere as Steve stands at the bar, glass of seltzer in hand. 

“You are  _such_  a bore,” Bucky says, hopping on a barstool and twisting around. 

Steve grins so hard he thinks his face might split.

“Yeah?”

“You deaf again? You heard me,” Bucky says. “Scuzi! Barkeep!”

Steve lets his gaze wander as Bucky gives his order, his chest expanding like he’s being pumped full of helium. Bucky twists back around, drink in hand. He kicks his foot out, tapping his heel against the metal ring circling the barstool’s base and surveying the room. Their attention is both snagged as a guest drops down to pick up Bucky’s cat. 

“Who’s cuter?” Bucky asks.

“What?”

“Who’s cuter; me or the cat?”

“Bucky. Jesus,” Steve says. He huffs out a laugh, turning to face Bucky, who’s got an eyebrow cocked, gaze direct and challenging in a way that makes Steve’s knees go weak. 

“And don’t say both,” Bucky says, eyes narrowing in a squint. He looks about ready to sprout his own set of claws and tear Steve up if he even thinks about answering incorrectly.

“You, Buck. That cat’s got nothing on you,”

“Whatever. You’re a terrible liar, Rogers,” Bucky says, turning away, but his voice is warm, indulgent. He still has a look in his eyes that doesn’t preclude the threat of imminent claw-ification.

Steve rolls his eyes and turns back to the milling crowd, and when he looks back with a question on his lips Bucky’s smiling smugly into the middle distance. Then his hand sneaks up into the crook of Steve’s arm and snags Steve’s hand. 

Steve smiles and squeezes Bucky’s hand back.

“Ouch,” Bucky says. 

“Alright,” Steve replies. He squeezes again after a moment. A few seconds more and Bucky’s tilting his head towards Steve, slumping in his seat to rest his head on Steve’s shoulder. 

It’s gonna be a slightly shorter long day. Steve’s fine with that.

**Author's Note:**

> buck: who are you  
> the floof: i'm you but stronger

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] where did that other dog come from](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13587498) by [quietnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietnight/pseuds/quietnight)




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